


We'll Have To Start Over Again

by meiloslyther



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Fluff, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-21
Updated: 2009-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiloslyther/pseuds/meiloslyther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan can't remember the last twelve years of his life. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those ideas I kind of just pulled out of my ass. I forget what even made me think of it. :/

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, various medical devices spread out around me. I realized I was in a hospital and it was because of that it was unfamiliar, I reasoned. Little did I know that nothing would feel familiar to me for a while.

I knew my name was George Ryan Ross and that I usually went by my middle name because I liked it better. I knew I was twenty-two. I knew my hair and eyes were both a medium brown. I knew I was musically inclined. I knew that I had friends, other than Spencer, and a job and a life.

But I couldn't remember the last twelve years of my life. Even the best of my memories were vague and faceless, the voices distorted and robotic, the words jumbled together like trying to listen through a wall filled with water.

"Ryan, you're awake!" A young man around my age came into view, his full lips pulled into a genuine smile, his dark brown hair messy from restless sleep. He approached the bed and sat in the nearby chair, his dark brown eyes worriedly searching my own.

I didn't know who he was, but I figured if he knew to call me Ryan, he must know me better than some hospital staff member, and therefore know what the hell was going on. I knew it was later in the week, maybe Thursday or Friday, and that between Monday and now, all was black. "Yeah... what happened to me?"

"You've been in a coma since Monday. It's Thursday now. The doc said you'd come out of it eventually, but we were so worried, Ry."

I would have questioned the "we" and the nickname, but he had grabbed my hand and I freaked. My only reaction was to jerk it away quickly. A confused and slightly hurt look crossed his face.

"I-I'm sorry," I apologized without thinking, the look in his eyes making me feel way too guilty. "But I don't know who you are."

He laughed. "Quit fooling around, Ry." He was smiling, but his eyes weren't.

"I'm not. I don't even know your name."

He was still grinning, but his eyebrows were knitted with worry. "It's me, Ry. It's me, Brendon, your best friend. Your..."

His face fell with the realization and he put his head in his hands. I apologized again, feeling somehow responsible.

"No, no, it's okay. It's not your fault. The doctor said this might happen. I just wish...," he began, reaching for my face but stopping himself with a frustrated sigh. "I'll go tell them you're awake."

I attempted a smile, hoping it would at least cheer him up a little. For some reason, I felt I should be the one protecting him, not the other way around. I thought it was because he looked so young and innocent, but I knew in my heart that it was something entirely different. I just wasn't sure what that was yet.

***

I had retrograde amnesia, according to the doctor. I could remember everything after the accident with perfect clarity and I could recall basic events from before it, but I couldn't remember specific details, including the people in them. He said they would be keeping me in the hospital for a little longer to make sure I was stable enough to go home.

 _Home_. I didn't even know where that was.

"Someone will have to take care of you until you get your memory back. You can do basic tasks like tying your shoes and getting around on a phone or computer, but more complicated things like, say, playing an instrument or driving may need to be relearned."

"No problem there," Brendon replied with a silly grin. "We live together, I'll be there 24/7."

The doctor gave us a strange look before walking out and I was suddenly terrified to be alone with Brendon. I didn't even know him and I was going to live with him? He seemed like a nice guy and he had said we lived together before, but this was fucking ridiculous.

"So, why was I in a coma? What happened, Brendon?"

The name rolled off my tongue so easily, I wondered if I had even said it aloud. His eyes lit up when I said it, and I could tell he was repressing something.

"We were in a car wreck."

"We?"

"Yeah, you and me. We were in your Mercedes Monday night. We were gonna go see The Dark Knight at the theater, which you've seen, like, a bazillion times..."

 

_"You've seen this movie, like, a bazillion times, Ry."_

 

"...And you kept telling me that it was this amazing movie that I just had to see..."

 

_"So? It's a good movie. Besides, you've never seen it."_

 

"...And then you said something about having an excuse for something... I don't really remember the details that well myself..."

 

_"You've pretty much told me the whole thing. Like I need to see it."_

I laughed. "Can't I have an excuse to dote on you? You're insatiable, Bren, honestly."

He snorted. "You always treat me like your little pet. Not that I don't like it or anything. I just wish I could do the same for you sometimes."

"Next time, Brenny. Next time, I'll let you pick whatever-"

"Ryan, watch out!"

 

"Ryan? Ryan, are you okay? Breathe!"

I gasped for air, and the heart monitor to my right was going spastic.

"Ry, calm down. What happened?"

I never got the chance to tell him, for a team of two or three nurses rushed in, pushing him away and injecting something into my IV. I saw him struggling with a particularly large nurse, his eyes wide with worry as I fell unconscious.  



	2. Chapter 2

I woke up later to find Brendon asleep in his chair, his arms folded on the side of my bed with his head lying on top of them. He looked like he was in a deep sleep, probably from pure exhaustion.

I noticed a tear streak running down his face and I lightly brushed my fingers across his cheek. It was still wet, so he must not have been out for long. I couldn't help but think he cried himself to sleep. If he had, I knew it was because of me.

I didn't know why or how, but I knew there had been a strong connection between us before the accident. I wasn't sure if we were just really good friends or something more. He wasn't bad looking or anything, and so far as I could tell he was nice and he cared about me. But all of that could mean anything.

He must have felt me looking at him because he sighed and opened his eyes. He noticed that I was awake and quickly rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, Ryan," he greeted weakly, not looking at me.

"Hey, Brendon," I replied quietly, giving him a smile when he finally glanced over at me.

"Oh good, you're awake," cooed a nurse as she walked into the room, making the both of us jump. "Your friends are here to see you."

I turned my gaze from her to Brendon, my eyes questioning.

He nodded. "I'll talk to them." The look in his eyes was sad, but he followed the nurse out.

I watched with a heavy heart as he left. Since I woke up from the coma, he's been the only friend I had. Now that I was going to have more, I felt guilty having to divide my attention. It was a stupid thing to think, but after something that traumatic, you tend to get a little clingy.

Before I could spend too much time thinking about my situation, Brendon returned with two scruffy-chinned guys, one with brown eyes like Brendon and I, and the other with amazing grey-blue eyes. I immediately realized that this blue eyed man was Spencer, my best friend since I was six. It was vague, and he looked nothing like I remembered, but I knew those eyes; it was something.

"Spencer?" I muttered, a little surprised and somewhat confused.

He grinned and came up to me first, his face a mixture of joy and worry. "Hey, Ryan, are you okay?"

I held my arms out for a hug and he eagerly complied. "I'm okay. I just... don't remember much after about fifth grade." I pulled back and took a good look at him. "You grew up."

To this he laughed and the other guy, who I assumed to be Jon, came up to me. "Jon," he said simply, shaking my hand. "I won't bore you with the details; I'll just let you remember what you will about me."

It was my turn to grin. "I think I can see why we were friends in the first place, Jon."

***

Jon and Spencer stayed as long as they could before leaving for Spencer's place. Which of course, left me alone with Brendon again, who was beginning to understand the awkwardness I felt when he was being affectionate. I could tell it was hard for him to hold back, however.

It was late, and the nurse was bound to come in to tell Brendon to leave and order me to bed any minute. I knew I was completely safe there in the hospital and that if I needed anything, someone was nearby to get it for me. But Brendon, Jon, and Spencer were the only people I knew in the world for the time being, and they would be gone all night.

I also had reason to believe that Brendon was a mind reader after only a few hours of knowing him.

"Want me to ask the nurse if I can stay with you overnight?"

I was so astonished that he had voiced my thoughts almost perfectly, I merely stared at him and forgot to answer.

"I mean, if you don't want me to, I understand...," he faltered, his face reddening.

I shook myself out of my shock. "No, no," I replied, almost a little too eagerly. "I mean... If you don't mind...," I muttered, and it was my turn to blush.

He grinned at me, but it was innocent and not at all triumphant. He immediately jumped up to intercept the nurse before she entered my room.

I watched him carefully as he spoke with her. I saw his facial expression change from excited, to pleading, and back to excited again. I was convinced that his smile could make even Scrooge crack a grin and it was plastered to his face at least ninety-five percent of the time. When he glanced back at me through the window in the door, a strange pulling sensation started in the pit of my stomach and moved up into my chest.

If I didn't love this boy as at least a friend before the accident, I sure as hell did now.

Brendon quite literally bounced back into the room, the nurse behind him. She quietly went over to the side of the room and folded out the small bed/chair, a knowing but motherly look on her face.

"Now you boys get some sleep, you hear?" she ordered, and yeah, she definitely sounded motherly.

"Yes, mom," Brendon whined, but giving her a big smile.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips were turned up as she turned off the light and left the room.

"I think I love you, Brendon," I whispered into the dark a while later, already beginning to doze off.

I could hear his breath hitch. "As, like, a friend?"

"Yeah." I had a strong feeling that wasn't what he wanted to hear, but I couldn't give him anything more. Not yet. "So far." I was glad it was dark as I blushed.

He laughed, and in my head I could see his smile. "I love you too, Ry."

And I could hear that from his lips it meant so much more than just friends.  



	3. Chapter 3

I was released the next morning, so Brendon and I left for his -- our place in his car. He called driver, as if I was in any kind of mental state to have driven anyway; I didn't remember how to.

The drive was surprisingly short and we soon pulled into a parking spot in an apartment complex. As he led me upstairs and into the apartment, I realized it was entirely too small for two grown men to live in together. I blushed a little as I realized that there was only one bedroom, one bed even, and the only other possible place to sleep was somewhere on the floor or on the tiny couch in the living room.

"Brendon, how long have we been living together?"

He froze, obviously just now noticing exactly how the situation would look to an outsider, which was practically what I was for the time being. He refused to look at me.

"Umm, not that long. This is actually your place and, uh, you let me stay here after I had some problems with my old place... it was only supposed to be temporary anyway."

I could tell he was lying out of his ass, but I knew he was just trying to make me comfortable, keep me from freaking out. Not that I would have freaked out if he had just come out and said, "Oh by the way, Ryan, you and me, we're totally gay lovers and we fuck like rabbits," but I thought the gesture was thoughtful anyway.

"So, what do we usually do for fun?" I asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Uhm, we hang out," he answered slowly, as if trying to think of something to say. "Yanno, we, uh, play video games and watch movies... we make music."

"Music?" My voice sounded surprised, but I wasn't really because I already knew I was a musician. I just didn't remember, and I hoped he would elaborate.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the lyricist and lead guitarist for our band," he replied with a wide grin. He retreated into the bedroom before bringing out a pale green Gretsch Anniversary, which he handed to me. "That's yours... well, one of them anyway."

"How many do I have?"

He laughed, shaking his head a little. "I don't even know."

I held the guitar in my lap and ran my fingers over the strings, the pickguard, the soft curves of the body. Brendon sat next to me, an expectant look on his face.

"I... I wish I could play it."

Brendon bit his lip and dropped his gaze. "Well, uhm. Want me to play the piano for you?" He scratched the back of his head nervously.

I smiled. "That would be great."

He looked back up at me and grinned before practically running over to the upright piano at the side of the room. He plopped down on the wooden bench and scooted it in closer, hands hovering over the keys.

"Okay," he sighed.

 

_"Okay, your high altitude's killing me folks."_

A few girls in the crowd screamed as Brendon adjusted his mic at the piano.

"Alright, so uh, this next song we, um, shot a video for this maybe about a month ago and, uh, that should be out in September. Yeah."

The crowd roared again, and Brendon simply smiled and nodded at them all.

"It is on the album but we decided to change it up a bit just for you guys, so uh, here you go."

His fingers quickly found their place on the keys and he began playing a lively, flowing melody. After a few bars, the contrabassist began playing behind me and I began singing, Jon and Brendon eventually joining in as the intro came to a close.

 

"Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress..."

He was playing Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off. How I remembered, I didn't know, but I laughed anyway because I REMEMBERED.

He stopped singing but continued playing as he looked at me. "What's so funny?"

"You're playing Lying."

That did make him stop playing. "You remember?"

"Yeah. I can hear it in my head. I can see myself playing it." I looked down at the guitar -- my guitar -- and willed myself to remember how to play it. It didn't work. "Can you play guitar, Brendon?"

"Well yeah. I play sometimes. Why?"

I bit my lip and looked back up at him, at those big, curious brown eyes. His head was tilted to the side, a lock of his shaggy hair falling in his eyes, and I found it highly adorable. I felt my heart skip a few beats. "Could you teach me?"

His face was a mixture of emotions: sadness, joy, pride, pity, and perhaps even love, but it could have just been my imagination.

"Of course, Ryan. I'd do anything for you."  



	4. Chapter 4

I didn't remember much more over the next few weeks. Bits and pieces of concerts, song riffs, random lyrics, snippets of conversation. Sometimes there were no words, just a look on someone's face, a small gesture to or from someone else, and I felt so frustrated because it didn't MEAN anything to me. I knew it should mean something, but it didn't because I couldn't remember what it was supposed to mean.

"Maybe you're just trying too hard," was the only answer Brendon had when I voiced my frustrations.

"The doctor said something about triggers," Spencer added helpfully. Even though he had seemingly aged without me, he was still the Spencer I knew and loved. I nodded my agreement.

"Yeah, maybe you're not trying too hard, maybe you're just doing it wrong. Or maybe we're helping you wrong. Can't put all the blame on you, we're the only ones who actually remember your life," Jon put in, tuning his bass as he spoke.

"You guys have helped me remember plenty. I know we're famous. I know almost all the music by heart now, the lyrics."

"But you still can't play guitar. And you can't remember... us. Your friends," Brendon replied, and I could feel him holding back. He held back everything, every day, and oh how I wished he'd just reach out and touch me, just say it already.

I knew long ago that I was at least bi because I always had kind of liked Spencer in a way friends really shouldn't. I knew in my gut that they all knew because they're my friends, and that's something friends would tell each other. And in little less than a month, I knew in my heart that Brendon and I had been deeply in love before all of this.

It killed me. It killed me to know that this man loved me, probably more than life itself even, but he was afraid to show it for fear of losing me more than he already had. I couldn't remember the love that we had, the affection, the words, or anything that had happened between us. But I could feel the love, burning deep in my chest every time I woke up to him standing over the bed where I slept, or sitting close behind me to help me position my fingers correctly on the guitar.

I didn't remember, but I could feel. But sometimes, feeling just isn't enough.

"I don't think they will ever come back," I told Spencer one day. "I'm afraid, Spence." It had only been a month and a half since I woke up, and I had easily gotten close to Spencer again.

He placed his hand on my cheek, his stormy blue eyes burning into mine. "It will come back. It may not be as fast as you'd like, but it will." He pulled me into a tight but comforting hug, just like the old days.

 

_"He's dead."_

My face was wet with tears, pressed into Spencer's soft shoulder.

"I know," he whispered into my hair, holding me, comforting me, letting me hide from the world in his warmth.

 

"Trust me," he demanded, pulling away.

I fisted my hand in his shirt. "Spencer. Who died?"

He looked confused but something in my eyes must have answered his question because he was hugging me again, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"Your dad. He died July 2006."

My father had died three years ago and I didn't even remember it. I choked back a sob, holding onto Spencer tight.

"It's okay, Ry."

I let the tears fall then, crying out my frustrations into his neck. All of this amnesia crap was getting under my skin, so I was letting it go.

When I had calmed down, I sniffled a little and took a deep breath.

"I think I'm in love with Brendon."

He nodded against my hair. "I know you are."

I laughed a little. "I figured you would. So we were together before this, huh?"

"Yeah." He pulled back a little to look me in the face. "Have you told him yet?"

I shook my head, averting my eyes. "I-I wasn't sure."

He grabbed me by the sides of my face and made me look at him. "If you're sure, you have to tell him. You of all people should be able to see that this is killing him."

I nodded. "I know."  



	5. Chapter 5

When I started remembering things about Spencer, Brent, and my high school days, Brendon didn't seem too upset about it. Only when I suddenly remembered one day that Jon had cats - Clover and Dylan - did Brendon get jealous.

"Can't you just be happy that I'm remembering anything at all?"

And the truth was he couldn't, because he loved me and he was frustrated, almost as much as I was, and fucking christ he was just _Brendon_. But he was trying, I knew he was because he shut up about it and left me alone.

It had been over three months and I had the majority of my memory back, except for the part where I was one half of BrendonandRyan. We were both getting frustrated and irritated with each other, especially when he was giving me guitar lessons, and we would fight almost every day about it.

"You're not even trying!"

"I have to find a trigger, Bren, or I'll never get you back!"

He went silent at that and hung his head. "I know."

I was shaking with the anger and adrenaline from yelling. "Any suggestions, mister know-it-all?" I asked, forcing my voice down to a reasonable volume.

He looked back up at me through lidded eyes.

 

_My heart skipped a beat._

_"Are we going to do this or not?" Brendon asked, looking down his naked form to me at the end of the bed._

_I was nervous, but I nodded, crawling up to him._

_"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, leaning down-_

 

"Ry, did you hear me?"

I blinked and Brendon was back on the couch, fully clothed. Shaking my head, I tried to push the memory to the back of my mind. My pulse was racing. "No, I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I could think of a few, but I don't know how interested you would be in trying them out."

Flashes of pale, sweat soaked skin skipped across my brain, and I could feel the heat going up my neck to my face.

"Maybe..." I cleared my throat and tried not to listen to the moaning from my memories. "Maybe we should try."

He looked up at me in surprise, but didn't say anything.

"I-I know we were in love before. And that-that... My memory of it is gone for now, but my love for you must be in here-" I tapped my chest, "-somewhere."

He gaped at me. "Are... are you sure?"

I sat down next to him on the couch, grabbing his face and resting my forehead against his. "I want... I need you to make me remember."

He hesitated, but finally grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me, slowly at first, then more demanding as I melted into his touch, forcing his tongue past my lips. The memories came flickering in slowly like an old fluorescent lightbulb and I kissed him back hungrily. Our tongues battled fiercely and my heart pounded in my chest, from memories or his touch, I couldn't tell.

"Bren...," I muttered against his lips.

He kissed across my jaw to my ear, laving around the shell of my ear and nibbling at my earlobe. I gasped and tangled my fingers in his hair.

"I love you, Ryan," he breathed in my ear before pulling away.

I made a sound of protest and tried to pull him back, but he took my hands and held them.

"Not until you mean it."

 

_I was inside of him, my hands behind his knees, looking down into those sweet brown eyes. He moaned as I moved, his nails digging into the back of my neck._

"Ryan..."

"I love you so much, Bren," I whispered as he bit his lip.

 

And I did. I could feel it in every inch of my skin, the very core of my bones. I lunged for him, pinning him against the couch.

"I love you so much, Bren," I muttered, kissing whatever part of his face I could get to.

"Do you mean that, Ry, or are you just trying to get into my pants?" he asked, grinning.

He was grinning because he had asked the same thing the first time I told him how I felt. I remembered it now.

"Brendon Boyd Urie," I began, a smile spreading on my face as well as I recited my answer. "Just because I'm trying to get in your pants doesn't mean that I DON'T love you."

He laughed and pulled me down for another kiss, and everything was right with the world again.


End file.
